The Eve Before Christmas by Linda J. Doucett

‘Twas the eve before Christmas.
I left it too late.
The shelves are all bare.
Oh, why did I wait?


I swore I’d shop early,

I clearly remember,
And be done with it all
By the first of December.


But now here I am

With picked-over stock.
The boxes are crumpled
On the Marvel knockoffs.


Sweaters too big,

Slippers too small.
The pushing the grabbing,
Get me out of this mall.

I will stop at the drug store
And purchase a card
And fill it with money.
Why make life hard?

It always fits
And suits everyone’s taste.
No need to wrap it.
That’s just a waste.

But should you not like it,
Dear, have no fear,
If you’d like to return it,
My pocket’s right here.

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